The Little Witch's Hut

by 虞花

VDBDHDHDJDHSD I LOVE THIS ONE <3

Stopped one day while trying to make my way accross the house. Her voice is soft, her face is kind, and I can tell that she really does care about me... mother knows best, after all! Who knows what could happen to me down on the floor... I could get pulverised under someone's foot, a family pet or mouse could pick me off... it's simply unsafe! She decides to pick me up, her hands practically smothering me as she whisks me around the house, setting me down on counters where I can't get down by myself... I'm reliant on her just to move around... but its okay! Mother knows best, after all!

School was a struggle to go to in the first place. It took multiple reassurances that this school was not only micro-friendly but would bend over backwards for it's tiny students for her to finally even consider letting me go... if I told her about the bullying from fellow classmates, the way I'm abused and kicked around, forced to humiliate myself for my peers while moaning my thanks, I know she'd never let me return. But she doesn't need to know- all she needs is to worry about it, and she does. She whisks me away, back home... I hardly ever leave the house anymore, learning a curriculum purely from her, all the things that SHE decides I need to know. And I don't mind, because mother knows best.

Occasionally I was let outside, allowed to get some fresh air in the backyard or even go on (slightly humiliating) "walks" around the neighborhood. But all of our neighbors own pets, dogs that could tear me apart, and the backyard is full of creepy crawlies that could so easily overpower me; so eventually, micro safety locks are put on the pet door leading outside and I'm forbidden from my little walks. I don't mind. Mother knows best.

She's convinced that a sheet could easily smother me, choke me in my sleep... or some bedbug would take advantage of me.... so she decides I need to sleep with her. I practically live glued to her body, the scent of worry-fueled sweat poorly hidden by perfume is a smell that my nostrils have memorized by now. And as I lay in her arms, a tiny little thing, close to her stomach, listening to it gurgle, that same scent flooding my nostrils.... I know she's right.

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